


The Right Partner

by ForeverShippingJohnlock



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 40s, Dance Teaching, Dancing, First Dance, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverShippingJohnlock/pseuds/ForeverShippingJohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1935. 1943. 2015. Three times Steve and Bucky dance, falling in love a little more each time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Partner

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my FIRST EVER STUCKY FANFICTION!!!!! :D It has been incredibly fun working on this for the past four or five days and I'm honestly so proud of it, it's my favourite thing I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy it too! Also, I gotta give one of my best friends, Fiona (fionasank), a HUGE thank you because without her I would have never gotten into the Captain America fandom <3
> 
> **IMPORTANT** The songs that Steve and Bucky dance to are songs from the 30s and 40s, but the year they were recorded and the year Steve and Bucky dance to them might not match up properly, so suspend your disbelief a little bit ;)
> 
> If you'd like to listen to the songs as Steve and Bucky dance to them, here are the links:
> 
> 1\. Isn't It Romantic by Ella Fitzgerald - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YMt30gnR4g  
> 2\. Day By Day by Frank Sinatra - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3VcD0F-5Is  
> 3\. It's Been A Long, Long Time by Harry James and his Orchestra - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG1L9wxYbs0

The year is 1935 and Steve sits hunched over his sketchbook in a way that his muscles will probably complain about later, a blanket thrown over his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the night’s chill in their apartment that never seems to have enough heat. His eyes keep flicking up to where a tabby cat lies on the ratty couch, occasionally showing up and making herself at home (though where her actual home is is a mystery). He sits across from her on a semi-comfortable chair, his knees drawn up in order to balance his sketchbook. He’s just beginning the outlines of the cat’s ears when the door flies open and Bucky strides in. At the sudden commotion, the cat scampers off, leaving Steve with an incomplete drawing. He looks up at Bucky with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, Stevie, you know she’ll be back,” he says with a grin, replacing the tabby’s spot on the couch.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Steve observes, taking in Bucky’s air of excitement. Bucky quirks his brows mischievously.

“I got us a date.”

“ _Us?_ ” Steve replies, already dreading their so-called “double date”.

Steve knows that Bucky means well, but what they do isn’t a double date. It’s Steve tagging along on _Bucky’s_ date, while awkwardly keeping her friend/cousin/sister, etc., company. If it went well, he might pass the evening in amiable conversation with a pleasant gal, and, if it didn’t go well, he would sit there in silence as _both_ girls fawned over an oblivious Bucky. But one thing is always consistent.

The girls are never interested in Steve.

And who could blame them really? He’s certainly nothing to look at at the best of times, and next to Bucky he might as well be invisible. Steve is small where Bucky is taller, he’s skinny where Bucky is leanly muscular from all his work at the docks, and he’s weak and frail where Bucky is strong and healthy.

He’d never resented Bucky for it though, and he never will. He also refuses to wallow in self pity. However, he’s faced the facts, whereas Bucky on the other hand…

“Aw, don’t give me that! You’re a great guy, Steve, and any dame would be lucky to have ya.”

Steve just sighs. They’ve had this conversation too many times to count and he’s not particularly feeling up for another round.

“So, what are they like?” he asks instead.

“They’re knockouts, man! Julia, my girl, she’s a real firecracker, and her friend, Margaret, is sweet as sugar, you’ll love her.”

“Yeah? What’d you tell her about me?”

“Only the good stuff,” Bucky says with a wink, “We’re taking them out dancing tomorrow night.”

“Come on, Buck, you know I don’t know how to dance!” Steve says, his stomach dropping. No girl wants to dance with a guy she could step on, but he doesn’t say this out loud.

“It ain’t like it’s rocket science.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I’m serious! I’ll teach you,” Bucky says before getting up off the couch and turning on their ancient radio. He fiddles with the dials for a moment before a soft song comes through the speakers (at this point it’s really more static than song, but it doesn’t bother them). Seemingly satisfied, he crosses the room and offers his hand to Steve. Steve looks up at him, bewildered.

“What, you mean right now?” he blurts. Bucky shrugs.

“Why not?”

“I dunno… isn’t it a bit… weird?” Steve asks uncertainly.

“Steve, we have to share a bed most nights, and you think _this_ is weird?” Bucky jokes, immediately setting Steve at ease in a way that only Bucky can, and he can’t help but smile before taking Bucky’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up.

“That’s more like it,” Bucky says and then he’s all business, “Okay, now these girls ain’t gonna be expecting fancy footwork, so let’s just keep it simple. You’ll be leading, so put your hand on the small of my back.”

Steve swallows and tentatively does as told, feeling ridiculous because of how much shorter he is than Bucky.

“Great, now take my hand,” Bucky continues, and Steve subtly swipes his hand on his pants to clear the sweat that had started to form on his palm before interlacing his fingers with Bucky’s.

Then they start swaying to the music, their bodies close enough to get the living daylights beat out of them if anyone saw. But the apartment is empty, the night is dark, and the curtains are drawn.

So they sway.

_Isn’t it romantic?_

_Music in the night, a dream that can be heard._

_Isn’t it romantic?_

_Moving shadows write the oldest magic word._

_I hear the breezes playing in the trees above,_

_While all the world is saying you were meant for love._

“Well, at least we know you’ve got rhythm,” Bucky says, giving Steve an approving look, “Let’s bump it up a notch.”

This is exactly what Steve’s afraid of. He might have passable timing when it comes to music, but his gangly limbs lack the coordination for dancing and he really doesn’t want another reason to embarrass himself in front of Bucky. He says none of this out loud, however, and instead just nods.

Bucky takes the lead this time, starting to step from side to side and eventually leading them around in a small circle, turning them. Steve manages to follow along, staring directly at his feet to make sure he doesn’t step on Bucky’s.

“Hey, eyes up. You don’t want Margaret to think you’re an amateur, do you?” Bucky says. Steve fixes him with a look.

“But I _am_ an amateur.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want _her_ to know that,” Bucky replies with mock exasperation. Steve rolls his eyes, moments before he accidentally steps on Bucky’s foot. Hard.

“Ow! Damn, watch where you’re steppin’, punk!”

“You told me _not_ to watch where I’m steppin’, jerk!”

“Oh sure, _now_ you start listening to me,” Bucky says before starting to laugh and Steve is quick to follow.

They continue to dance and Steve begins to get more confident with the steps, enough that Bucky starts to let him lead. Steve stares into Bucky’s eyes instead of at his feet as they sweep across the living room. He tries not to think about how right this all feels and what that might mean. Instead, he focuses on the music and the feel of Bucky’s hand in his as they move together, in tune with each other on a level that “best pals” doesn’t quite cover.

Just as it’s always been.

_Isn’t it romantic,_

_Merely to be young on such a night as this?_

_Isn’t it romantic?_

_Every note sung is like a lover’s kiss._

_Sweet symbols in the moonlight,_

_Do you mean that I will fall in love perchance?_

_Isn’t it romance?_

* * *

The year is 1943 and Steve and Bucky sit at the bar, craning their necks to see why all the music and commotion has suddenly halted. The answer becomes immediately clear when a bombshell dressed in red by the name of Agent Peggy Carter walks in, sauntering up to them.

“Captain,” she says.

“Agent Carter,” Steve replies politely, trying not to ogle too much.

“Ma’am,” Bucky greets, apparently not having quite as much self control as Steve when it comes to the ogling.

They talk about business, or maybe pretend to talk about business? There’s something in Peggy’s eyes as she talks to Steve, the faint smile on her lips, that makes Steve think there’s more going on here. Then again, understanding women was never particularly his forté. He gets even more confused when she brings up the dancing.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she says, gesturing to the drunken vocals coming from the next room, compliments of the Howling Commandos.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky replies smoothly. Steve knows that tone and knows what it’s used for, and he has to fight back a chuckle when Agent Carter doesn’t even spare a glance at Bucky.

Well. This is certainly new.

“I do, actually. I might even, when this is all over, go dancing,” she replies, looking pointedly at Steve, and Steve doesn’t have to be an expert in the field of women to know what she’s getting at. If Bucky sees it too, then he steadfastly ignores it as he continues.

“Then what are we waitin’ for?”

“The right partner,” she replies simply, still looking at Steve. After giving the command to meet at 0800 the next morning to test out Howard’s new equipment, Peggy takes her leave.

“I’m invisible. I’m turning into you. It’s like a horrible dream,” Bucky says with a somewhat bitter laugh. Steve smiles at him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t take it so hard, maybe she’s got a friend,” he replies, before they take a seat at the bar again.

It’s not until what’s probably a few too many drinks later (for Bucky at least) that Steve decides it’s probably best for them to leave. He tells Bucky as much and helps him up, leading him on the short walk back to his tent, figuring it would be better for Bucky to crash there.

Bucky isn’t drunk enough to stumble along or slur his words, but his eyes have a definite glaze to them and a lopsided grin remains plastered on his face.

As soon as they get there, Bucky flops onto the small couch with a laugh. When Brandt and his men had given Steve his more lavish tent, he had tried to protest, saying that he didn’t deserve any more than any of the other men, but they insisted that “Captain America” deserved only the best. His tent is nearly double the size of almost any other and has a comfortable bed, a large desk, and the couch Bucky is currently laying on. Steve closes the flaps of the tent and flips on the lights. He had just sat down on the bed to start unlacing his boots when Bucky suddenly speaks, sitting up and looking at him determinedly.

“Steve, I got an idea.”

“Yeah?” Steve replies, humouring him.

“How long’s it been since you went dancin’?” Bucky asks. Steve tilts his head at him, confused at where Bucky’s going with this. He stops and thinks about it.

“Uh, I dunno, ‘35 maybe?”

1935 was the first and last time Steve had seriously attempted to dance with a girl. Despite all the practice he’d gotten with Bucky, when it had actually come to dancing with Margaret, Steve had been about as clumsy as a newborn giraffe. Margaret, true to her nature, hadn’t been mean about it, but suffice it to say, Steve never heard from her again.

“And now Miss Carter wants to take you dancing…” Bucky leers.

“Agent Carter,” Steve corrects automatically without thinking.

“Sorry, of course, _Agent_ Carter,” Bucky says, raising his hands in surrender.

“And… she- she never exactly _said_ that she wanted… that,” Steve says awkwardly. Bucky gives him an incredulous look.

“You kiddin’ me, Rogers? Do I really gotta spell it out for you?”

Steve shakes his head, a soft pink blush rising to his cheeks. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the fact that women actually want him now (although, to Peggy’s credit, she doesn’t treat him any differently now than she had before the serum). Bucky tilts his head and the lopsided grin makes a reappearance.

“Always loved makin’ ya blush, Stevie,” he says. Steve raises his eyebrows a fraction in surprise. Bucky looks down with a small, confused frown before giving his head a slight shake as if to say “did I really just say that out loud?” and looking back at Steve, the previous moment seemingly forgotten.

“What I’m saying is,” Bucky continues unheeded, “is that you should brush up on your moves there, Captain, if you wanna impress her.”

“Are you offering up some more lessons, Sergeant?” Steve asks playfully, “Because I probably don’t have to remind you how well that went the last time we tried.”

“Hey, my teaching was great! It ain’t my fault you just forgot it all when it came time to show it off.”

Steve rolls his eyes, smiling. Bucky suddenly springs up from the couch, pausing a moment while swaying ever so slightly on his feet before walking over to the desk and the radio that’s sitting on it (another one of Brandt’s insistent gifts). He turns it on to a low volume so that they don’t wake anyone up and heads slowly to where Steve is still sitting on the bed. Bucky gives Steve a cocky grin, bows slightly, and offers him a hand. Steve can’t help but chuckle and he shakes his head at Bucky’s drunken persistence, before taking the proffered hand just as he did 8 years ago.

This time Bucky doesn’t have to tell him where to put his hands. He once again places one hand on the small of Bucky’s back, the other entwining his and Bucky’s fingers. There’s less tentativeness than there was the first time they did this back in 1935. Steve takes the lead, seeing as how they’re doing this for his supposed benefit, and he finds it amusing that it’s now Bucky who has to tilt his head up to look at him. Their bodies gravitate toward each other in a way that probably shouldn’t feel as natural as it does. Steve doesn’t know why he feels more confident dancing with Bucky than he did with any girl. He doesn’t stop to think that maybe the reason he had messed up so colossally with Margaret was because he was distracted by Bucky and Julia on the dance floor, moving together so slowly and intimately that Steve had felt a sudden surge of jealousy swell in his chest.

But only because he was jealous of Bucky’s smooth dance steps, of course.

 

_Day by day I’m falling more in love with you,_

_And day by day my love seems to grow._

_There isn’t any end to my devotion,_

_It’s deeper dear by far than any ocean._

“Not bad,” Bucky says approvingly after a minute or so.

“I had a good teacher,” Steve replies with a smirk.

“Damn right,” Bucky laughs.

Steve laughs with him and, swept up in the moment of euphoria, Steve gives Bucky a twirl before pulling him back in. The twirl is less than elegant, Bucky’s surprised expression clearly indicating he wasn’t prepared. He punches Steve in the arm as he gets reigned back in, mumbling what sounds like a fond “idiot” under his breath, before putting his hand back on Steve’s shoulder. Somehow they’re standing impossibly closer than they were before.

“So… you like Agent Carter, huh?” Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, she’s a swell girl. Real swell,” Steve says hesitantly, his brain fumbling for words because Bucky is so _close_ and he can’t _think_. Bucky just nods slowly, his hand sliding up from Steve’s shoulder to the nape of Steve’s neck. Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes and he would feel uncomfortable with this level of scrutiny from anyone else, but this is _Bucky_ and all Steve feels is the sudden lack of oxygen in the room as he struggles to breathe properly.

“I was there first, you know,” Bucky says, his voice so soft it’s practically a purr.

Steve raises an eyebrow, confused. Bucky had barely spoken two words to Peggy before tonight, and Steve has certainly known her longer. Could Bucky have feelings for Agent Carter too? He’s thinking over the possibility of this when he notices, really _notices_ , the way that Bucky is looking at him.

Bucky is no longer the boy he knew from his childhood. There are new lines on his face, a hardness to his expression that hadn’t been present before the war (not to mention Zola’s lab). Bucky has changed - they both have - but right now, Steve is looking past all that. He looks into Bucky’s eyes and sees only the deepest of adoration, the teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth speaking to the fondness that they’ve always shared. Maybe, after all the changes they’ve been through, the very nature of their relationship has changed along with it.

Or maybe Steve’s just never been close enough to notice.

It’s only at that moment that Steve allows himself to think that Bucky might not necessarily be talking about Agent Carter. The thought that it could be _him_ that Bucky is talking about makes his stomach swoop and his mouth go dry. He can also feel himself blushing again. Bucky chuckles, a low soft sound.

“And there it is again,” he murmurs.

Bucky disentangles their fingers, raising the hand to cup Steve’s face, brushing his thumb across Steve’s cheek, tracing the blush that’s only getting worse as the moments wear on. Steve’s breath hitches and he realizes just how badly he wants this, how he _aches_ with a need he’s never let himself feel before. He places his now abandoned arm around Bucky, joining the other one. They’ve stopped dancing.

Steve knows, somewhere deep down, that he should probably stop this… whatever it is. Bucky’s drunk, he might not know what he’s doing. But Steve just can’t bring himself to do it. He knows Bucky Barnes better than anyone else in the world, and that he’s a man who goes for what he wants. Steve doesn’t know what’s more terrifying, the thought that this is all some drunken mistake that Bucky will regret in the morning...

Or that it isn’t.

“Bucky, I-” he starts shakily, not really knowing what he’s going to say, but Bucky places his index finger lightly against Steve’s lips, effectively silencing him.

“Shut up, Steve, just… shut up for a second, okay?” Bucky says, voice barely more than a whisper. His gaze flicks down to Steve’s mouth and back again, his face getting closer and closer to Steve’s, mere inches apart. Bucky moves agonizingly slowly and Steve is too paralyzed - by fear, by desire, he doesn’t know - to do anything but let his eyes flutter shut in eager anticipation of what’s coming, what he’s realized that he’s been waiting so long for. Their lips aren’t much more than a hair’s breadth from connecting when suddenly-

“There iiiiis a tavern in the tooown, _in the town!_ And theeeeere my true love sits him dooown, _sits him down!_ ”

Drunken singing and the raucous laughter of a few men still coming back from the bar pass close by the tent and Steve and Bucky spring apart as if they’d been burnt. They wait with bated breath, practically on opposite sides of the tent at this point, as the noises fade and eventually stop. The silence, however, is deafening.

Steve risks a glance at Bucky, but Bucky won’t catch his eye, and Steve knows that the moment, and whatever was about to happen between them, is lost.

“I should… I should probably go,” Bucky says quietly. Steve’s throat feels thick with hurt and disappointment.

“I- Yeah. Uh, okay,” Steve says uselessly, willing his voice not to break.

Bucky looks up then, catching Steve’s eyes for only a moment, and it’s one of the saddest looks Steve has ever seen on his face before. Steve’s heart, already feeling broken, breaks just a little bit more.

He knows they won’t talk about this tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day. Bucky will be sober and rib him about Agent Carter in front of the Commandos and they will slip back into their usual comradery like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks away and quickly slips out of the tent, without another word or backwards glance. Steve lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and sinks onto the bed, putting his head in his hands as the song in the background fades away to nothing.

_I find that day by day you’re making all my dreams come true,_

_So come what may I want you to know,_

_I’m yours alone and I’m in love to stay,_

_As we go through the years day by day._  

* * *

The year is 2015 and Steve and Bucky are living on their own personal floor of the Avengers Tower. Steve walks in carrying a large box, a happy smile adorning his features. Bucky watches him from where he sits curled up in the corner of the couch.

“I bought a record player for us!” Steve says before Bucky has the chance to ask.

Steve is thrilled that he finally has Bucky back, but in a way, he doesn’t have him back either. He understands that Bucky is not the Bucky he knew back when they were kids, nor is he the Bucky that had fought alongside him in the war. Present day Bucky had made that abundantly clear to him from the start. The Winter Soldier lies dormant inside of Bucky, an ingrained set of skills and instincts instead of an all-consuming personality, and in his wake lies a man who struggles to remember who he is and how he fits into the world anymore.

In some ways, a stranger, in other ways, heartbreakingly familiar.

One of the things that had changed was the silence. Steve and Bucky never used to have trouble filling silences, they hardly ever ran out of things to talk about, and if they didn’t feel like talking that day for whatever reason, it was a companionable silence. Now the silence just felt… empty. Or perhaps empty was the wrong word. Too full would probably be a more apt description, the air thick with things unspoken and memories that either didn’t want to be relived (in Bucky’s case) or memories that were dutifully ignored because it would hurt too much to not have them be remembered (in Steve’s case).

So, Steve bought a record player in the hopes that music would help fill the silence in a way that neither of them could.

Luckily for Steve, the record player requires very little set up. Although he’s getting much better acquainted with the technologies of the 21st century - he can work a cell phone and navigate the internet and, even more impressively, has somehow learned how to operate Tony’s ridiculously complicated coffee machine - he still has to spend more than a normal amount of time squinting at diagrams and instruction manuals. However, all he really has to do is plug the record player into the wall, a feat he’s most certainly capable of.

He goes to his room and grabs all the records he’d brought from his D.C. apartment (his old record player unfortunately unsalvageable after it was hit with a stray bullet), and brings them out to the living room. He sets them on the table beside the record player and turns to Bucky. Steve raises his eyebrow, gesturing to the stack of records.

 _Any preference?_ the look says. Bucky shrugs.

_No, doesn’t matter._

Steve nods, and picks one at random, putting it on and setting the needle to the outermost ring. The record player crackles to life and music plays from it’s speakers, set at a comfortable listening volume. Steve walks to the couch where Bucky is and sits down next to him, a small distance away, draping his arm across the back of the couch, waiting.

After a moment, Bucky slides over closer and leans against Steve, head resting lightly on his shoulder, an almost inaudible sigh escaping his lips. Steve lets his arm come to rest around Bucky’s shoulders.

One thing Steve’s learned in the months that Bucky has been staying with him, is that it’s important to let Bucky come to you. Although they don’t talk as much as they used to, they’ve started to communicate with touch. At the beginning, Bucky couldn’t stand to be touched, wincing every time a hand almost came near him. And God help you if you tried to touch him when he wasn’t expecting it. But slowly Bucky started to reach out, mostly to Steve, though he was known to occasionally do things like clap a hand on another Avenger’s shoulder, or accept a high-five from Clint on a good day.

It started with the nightmares.

For the first couple weeks, Steve would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Bucky screaming. He would dash to Bucky’s room, calling his name in as gentle a voice as he could muster (not making the mistake of touching him again after the first time when Bucky nearly broke his wrist) and wait for him to wake up. Bucky’s eyes would snap open and he would sit up immediately, drawing his knees up to his chest. Steve would always ask if he wanted to talk about it, if he wanted Steve to stay. Bucky would say no to both. Eventually, Steve would have no other choice but to leave the room.

One night, however, minutes after he had left Bucky’s room, his door creaked open. Light footsteps treaded across the room, the bed dipping under the weight of another person. Steve had barely dared to breathe for fear that he would do something to scare Bucky off, but Bucky had just turned on his side, facing away from Steve, and didn’t say one word before drifting off to sleep.

This was a pattern that kept progressing slowly until Bucky eventually slept snugly pressed back against Steve, Steve’s arm draped protectively over Bucky’s torso. This new routine of casual and comforting touches was something that had carried on outside of the bedroom.

Which is why Bucky getting as close as he can to Steve while they sit on the couch is anything but surprising. Steve rests his cheek on top of Bucky’s head, breathing him in and letting his eyes slip closed as the music plays softly in the background.

_Kiss me once, then kiss me twice,_

_Then kiss me once again,_

_It’s been a long, long time._

_Haven’t felt like this, my dear,_

_Since can’t remember when,_

_It’s been a long, long time._

Suddenly, the weight against Steve’s side disappears. Steve opens his eyes to see Bucky standing above him, looking a bit unsure.

“What is it, Buck? You okay?” Steve asks, concerned. Bucky opens and closes his mouth a few times in indecision.

“I taught you to dance,” he says finally. It’s not a question, but Bucky voices it in a way that seems like he’s waiting to be corrected. Steve blinks in surprise before smiling.

“You bet. Did a pretty good job too,” Steve says, chuckling. Bucky furrows his brow, looking deep in thought, before slowly extending his arm towards Steve, palm up. He looks at Steve expectantly.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, confused.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Bucky replies.

“It looks like you’re asking me to dance.”

“Give the man a medal.” Bucky smirks slightly, and it’s so achingly reminiscent of the old Bucky that Steve thinks his face is going to split in two with the intensity of his smile. He takes the proffered hand with no further hesitation. This time it’s Bucky who leads, his hand a comforting pressure on Steve’s back and their fingers entwining like they were never meant to be anywhere else. Steve isn’t at all bothered by the cool metal between his fingers, in fact he barely notices it, too distracted by Bucky’s intoxicating proximity.

They start to step and sway together, their bodies getting closer and closer until they’re essentially cheek to cheek. Steve closes his eyes and lets out a contented sigh, wanting to enjoy every second, every minor detail, of this moment.

“I missed this,” Steve says, his voice hushed.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky replies.

“What for?” Steve asks, pulling back to look into Bucky’s eyes, confused. Bucky sighs.

“Just… everything. I’m sorry I’m not like I used to be. I’m sorry we haven’t done this since 1943. I’m sorry you’re stuck with my sorry ass. I’m sorry that I can’t be who you want, who you _deserve_.”

“Bucky…” Steve breathes, his voice thick with emotion, “I know you’re not who you used to be and I wish I knew what it’s gonna take for you to believe me when I say _I don’t care_. I’ve always wanted you and I always will, even now. We’ve all got baggage, pal, but I’m not _stuck_ with you, I’m _privileged_ to be here with you. ‘Til the end of the line, remember?”

“‘Til the end of the line…” Bucky repeats, giving Steve a small and somewhat watery smile. They continue to dance.

_You’ll never know how many dreams,_

_I’ve dreamed about you,_

_Or just how empty they all seemed without you._

_So kiss me once, then kiss me twice,_

_Then kiss me once again,_

_It’s been a long, long time._

“I remember…” Bucky says, breaking the silence before trailing off, shaking his head slightly.

“What? You know you can tell me anything, Buck,” Steve replies, greedy for more now that Bucky is finally talking, really _talking_ , to him.

Bucky looks at Steve for a long time. Steve can barely breathe as he waits for Bucky to say something, _anything_.

“I remember… those other times… how much I wanted to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” Steve manages to choke out, his mind reeling.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, that little smile appearing again.

“What- what about now?” Steve stutters.

“What _about_ now?” Bucky asks innocently, a certain glint in his eyes, and Steve is shocked because he suddenly realizes that Bucky’s actually _teasing_ him. Steve drops his head on Bucky’s shoulder with a groan.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he mumbles into Bucky’s shirt.

“Yes,” Bucky replies simply. Steve takes a deep breath and pulls his head back and looks deeply into Bucky’s eyes, wanting Bucky to know that he’s serious about this, that he’s never been more serious about anything in his life.

“Do you… do you still want to kiss me now?”

“Yes.”

And that’s all it takes for Bucky to close the gap between them and finally, _finally_ , connect their lips. It’s quick and chaste, Bucky pulling back almost immediately to assess Steve’s reaction. Steve smiles and ducks back down to capture Bucky’s lips in another kiss, this one longer and a bit more insistent. He feels Bucky freeze for one heart-stopping moment and he mentally chastises himself. Has he pushed Bucky too far? He’s just about to pull back, ready with a stream of apologies, when Bucky suddenly throws his arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him with extreme vigour. Steve chuckles into the kiss, pulling Bucky in closer and giving as good as he gets.

“You’re tellin’ me we could’ve been doing this since ‘35?” Steve asks breathlessly when they’re forced to come up for air. Bucky shrugs.

“Maybe even before that. Damn, we’ve really been stupid, haven’t we?” Bucky says, shaking his head.

“Speak for yourself. You took all the stupid with you, remember?” Steve teases.

Bucky barks out a laugh. It’s a bit too harsh and the laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. Steve knows that this doesn’t magically fix everything, he knows that despite these stolen moments of happiness, the road to recovery - for Bucky, for both of them - is long and winding, but for now, it’s enough, and Steve is willing to spend the rest of his days trying to make those eyes light up once more.

Steve joins in Bucky’s laughter at their old joke before kissing him again and again and again because he wants to, because he _can_. He suddenly realizes that Peggy had made a good point all those years ago…

The right partner is worth waiting for.

_So kiss me once, and kiss me twice,_

_And kiss me once again,_

_It’s been a long, long time._

* * *

_ _

**Author's Note:**

> This fic means quite a lot to me, so any feedback you have would be incredibly appreciated :)
> 
> EDIT: So the incredible smilingwsoldier drew an AWESOME fanart for me of the 1942 section (the above image) and I'm DYING IT'S SO GOOD. Go follow her on tumblr and give her some loooove :D


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